


Scarves

by DJBunn3



Series: Scarves [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Overthinking, Scarves, Winter, lance is sensitive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 20:07:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12825120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DJBunn3/pseuds/DJBunn3
Summary: "I thought you could use a new one."(lance gets emotionally attached to a scarf.)





	Scarves

It’s not Christmas yet, and it’s not Lance’s birthday, and there’s no reason for Keith to be holding a package out to him with his name on it, all wrapped up in pretty red paper with a glittering gold bow on top. It’s November. They’re in a park on a bench. There’s nothing special going on that would warrant gift giving.

“Did somebody die?” Lance asks, staring dubiously at the package, then up at Keith. Keith frowns and shakes his head.

“Nobody died,” he replies, shaking the package a little as if it might re-capture Lance’s attention. “It’s just- Take it.”

“Is it like, our one month anniversary or something?”

“No, Lance, just take the stupid box.” This time Keith thrusts the package into Lance’s chest, then steps away warily, as if he might try to hand it back. Lance doesn’t stop frowning, but he does remove the pre-wrapped lid from the box.

Inside lies a dark indigo scarf, tightly knit with a soft looking fabric. Lance pulls off one of his gloves with his teeth and reaches down to pick it up with his bare hand. It is soft, and surprisingly long. There are pretty twisting patterns knitted on it, the kind people wear on fashionable sweaters in the fall. Cable knit, he thinks.

“What’s this for?” he asks, jamming the empty box under his arm and looking back up. Keith’s face seems to be redder than it had been a second ago, and he won’t meet Lance’s eyes.

“I thought you could use a new one,” he explains, shuffling his feet. “I know it’s not exactly like the one you had before, and they didn’t have any other sizes because--well, because it’s a scarf, but- it reminded me of you.”

Lance runs his fingers along the knit of the scarf. “Really?” he asks. “You thought of me?”

“Well, yeah,” Keith says, glancing up at him. “I’m always thinking about you, you know.”

It’s cold outside, but hearing Keith say that he thinks of him makes Lance feel warm inside. “I love it,” he says, unwinding the scarf so he can wrap it around his neck. The ends fall almost to his waist, but the knit keeps the wind out nicely. It’s soft, unlike the scratchy, rough scarves he sees at thrift stores and in malls.

“Really?” Keith asks, looking at him nervously. “You do?”

“Of course! Thank you so much,” Lance says, throwing his arms around Keith in a quick hug. The scarf gets trapped between his arm and Keith’s shoulder.

“It’s nothing,” Keith says, but he looks relieved. “I’m glad you like it.”

The scarf makes its way into every one of Lance’s daily outfits for the next week.

It’s not that he’s trying to prove to Keith that he likes it, because he really does. It’s just that it’s warm and soft, and it reminds him of Keith whenever the ends brush against his arm or his back. He catches sight of it reflected in the glass windows of large storefronts, in the blank screen of his phone, in mirrors and car doors and Pidge’s glasses. He sees the blue knit in the corner of his eye and smiles, thinks of Keith thinking of him as he goes about his day. It’s nice to know that Keith thinks about him even when he’s not there. Lance will never admit it, but sometimes he worries that Keith doesn’t quite like him as much as he likes Keith.

(To be fair, he likes Keith a _lot_.)

There’s something nice about having the scarf, like he has a piece of Keith with him wherever he goes. It makes him smile like a giddy teenager--which he supposes he is. He likes how it goes with all of his clothes, how it makes his eyes look bluer than they usually do. And he likes the way Keith looks at him whenever he sees Lance wearing it, like he hadn’t expected that Lance would.

Lance has known Keith for three years, ever since they started going to the same high school. He knows that Keith’s mom left his dad when he was only two; that he’s lactose intolerant but refuses to give up pizza; that he’s socially awkward and blunt and oblivious, but sweet and sentimental at the same time. He knows that Keith has trust issues, and that he’s still figuring out how to open up. He also knows that Keith is insecure about a lot of things, and he refuses to let their relationship become one of them.

“I love it,” he says when Keith asks about the scarf.

“It’s so pretty, it goes with everything,” he tells Keith after his fourth day of wearing the scarf.

“It’s cold in here,” he explains when they come inside. “I need to keep it on.”

“You’re so weird,” Keith replies every time, but he smiles when he thinks Lance has turned away.

Most days, he and Keith spend their time in the park, talking about school and life and everything in between, scarves wrapped around their necks and hands shoved deeply into their pockets, sides pressed close together. Lance likes being outside, especially when he has good company, and Keith is probably the best company there is.

“We could always go to my house,” Lance says on a particularly snowy day. Keith shrugs.

“I like it out here,” he says with a shrug. “It’s nice and quiet.”

Lance doesn’t bother to point out that it’s only quiet because nobody else is crazy enough to stay outside in this weather. If Keith likes it outside, then they’ll stay outside. Lance will just have to deal.

Keith reaches over and takes Lance’s hand, not meeting his eyes as he does so. Lance laces their fingers together carefully, smiling to himself. For all of Keith’s talk about being straightforward and not beating around the bush like Lance often does, he isn’t that great about opening up. Now that Lance thinks of it, it’s honestly kind of surprising that Keith confessed to him instead of just ignoring his feelings like he normally does.

 

He spills some coffee on the scarf one morning, and when he tries to scrub it out in the bathroom sink it leaves a small off-colored patch. He’s afraid to machine wash it in case it loses its nice color, but the coffee isn’t going away and he doesn’t know what else to do.

It’s stupid, but he’s really upset about that tiny stain. It’s hardly noticeable, and yet he feels like he ruined Keith’s present. He should have been more careful, and now he has to wait for it to dry before he can wear it again. What if Keith thinks he’s not wearing it on purpose? Will he be upset? They’re just starting to get comfortable with the idea of being in a relationship, and now he’s probably gone and ruined it, and Keith will start to feel insecure again, which is the last thing Lance wants to happen.

He gets the coffee stain to fade with some instructions he finds online, then leaves the scarf scarf in his room on top of the space heater that day. He feels embarrassingly sad about it. It’s just a scarf, but it meant something to him, and now he doesn’t have it for the rest of the day. He should be able to go a day without a scarf, but his neck feels cold and bare, and his hands feel empty without the long knit ends to tug at.

“Something wrong?” Keith asks an hour later, when they’re sitting on the bench in the park again. Lance shrugs. It’s cold out, and he has to hunch his shoulders up by his ears to keep himself from shivering. The wind surrounds them unpleasantly.

“No,” Lance lies, looking away. He feels stupid for acting like this over a scarf, but that doesn’t change the fact that he is upset. He hopes Keith doesn’t notice the way he’s shivering, but apparently that’s too much to ask.

“You look cold,” Keith says, and promptly starts to untie his own red scarf from around his neck.

“No, I’m-” Lance reaches up to stop Keith’s hands where they are, attempting to re-knot the scarf. “I’m alright. Just being stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, Lance,” Keith says, pulling his hands free. “But you are going to get sick. Come on.”

Reluctantly, Lance lets Keith wrap the red scarf around his neck before zipping his jacket up higher. Keith’s scarf is definitely shorter than Lance’s, but it’s just as warm, and the fact that it’s Keith’s makes it seem even warmer.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says, staring down at his hands. Keith sighs, and for a second Lance worries that he’s actually annoyed. It wouldn’t be much of a surprise, considering Lance is the type of guy who gets upset over a stupid scarf.

Then again, Keith is the kind of guy who confesses his feelings in a park out of nowhere, so maybe he has a chance after all.

“I’ll survive going one day without a scarf, Lance,” Keith says in a voice that suggests that he knows Lance might not. He’s embarrassed about how transparent he’s being, but he can’t help but feel better at having a semi-piece of Keith with him again once they part. Keith heads to the library to work on a school project while Lance heads home to get some homework done (because their previous attempts at studying together have proved that nothing gets done.)

His blue scarf sits on the heater when he gets back, mostly dry. The coffee stain has faded a bit, hardly noticeable against the dry fabric. If he wraps it right, it will be like the whole (admittedly small) fiasco had never even happened. He lays the red scarf next to the blue one to dry out from the snow, then grabs his homework and sits down at his desk.

 

“Here,” Lance says the next day, looping the red scarf around Keith’s neck and using it to pull him in for a kiss. Keith responds eagerly, hands coming up to tangle in Lance’s scarf so that the tips of his fingers brush against Lance’s neck.

“I should lend you things more often,” Keith jokes, pulling away.

“I wouldn’t be entirely opposed to that,” Lance replies, leaning in again. Their lips meet, and the park doesn’t feel so cold anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know what this is.  
> [My Tumblr](https://djbunn3.tumblr.com/).


End file.
